He drew her to him.
She hesitated for only a second.
Then followed his lead, pressing herself enticingly against him.

She raised her eyes, looked at him.
He gazed back at her.
As his fingers gently combed her hair.

Her eyes closed.
Felt his hand lift her chin, bringing her glossed lips up, touching his.
Warm breath drawing them closer.

She felt his tongue.
As it skillfully lured its way into her mouth.
Gliding over her silky smooth teeth.

She responded.

He pressed against her.
His excitement rising, intensely.
She followed his rhythm with equal passion..

He grasped the sides of her face.
Fingers entwined in her wavy locks.

They kissed.
Like there was no tomorrow.


They wanted to savor the moment.
Savor each other.


They began to slow down.
Touching lip to lip.

As they fell in love once again.
With another kiss.

Another passionate kiss.

To last a lifetime.

I hate arguing!

Especially with arguments that are so pointless. So full of time wasted, time that could be better spent talking about the problem. Solving the problem in a mature manner.

I hate arguing so much that I will literally state to my opposition, “I am not going to argue. Arguing is pointless.” And when the person I am addressing continues with their argument, I will say, “I’m serious. I will not argue. Talk. Yes. Argue. No way.”

Most times those words from me stop a yelling match, and instead bring forth calmness, or more likely the subject is changed entirely, which is fine anyway, because whatever it is that was being argued was completely not worth the effort. Seriously. And yes, I know, I will never land a part on a reality show because I wouldn’t produce enough drama to entertain an audience. But, whatever. Yelling sucks, talking repairs.

Today, though, my words didn’t work. Rudy kept ranting and raving about this and that (something about texting. See! What did I say? So mundane…) and I couldn’t take it. I just couldn’t listen to his nonsense, so I left (to my hair appointment).

And, after my hair felt all shiny and new, instead of returning home and confronting Rudy and his argument, I drove straight to the beach. Crystal Cove State Park, to be exact, and I sat there breathing in the salty air and listened to the crashing of ocean waves. Destressing myself, until balance was again restored.




Quiet, reflective, attentive, and a person of few words define me. Which, I believe, has impacted my interest in both the social and psychological aspects of human nature.

I like being quiet. You see, I learn quite a bit when I turn off my voice and tune in my ears.

I’m reflective, thriving on what I see around me, applying what is helpful, learning from mistakes (sometimes my own, but mostly made by others) and deflect from what might diminish the powers my soul.

I find if I look someone in the eyes when they are telling me a story, a secret, a worry, or any other type of human emotion, my attention rewards me with a meaningful relationship. Whether it be for a moment, or a life time.

A person of few words doesn’t mean one has nothing to say, rather, for me, it’s that what words, what I’m trying to say, needs to be worthy of revealing because I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone, except to myself.

Me. A quiet, reflective, attentive person. Interested in human nature. Especially my own.

The Plumber

Years ago we had some issues with our plumbing, and because we didn’t have any specific company that we worked with that’d come our house, I simply looked in the yellow pages, found a local service, and phoned them. Whereby a young guy and his dad came over, fixed the problem, and have foreversince been the guys who are at the ready to fix our backed-up pipes.

This weekend, after almost three years of happy water flow, the Jones’ (to protect the innocent, names have been changed) were called and John, the dad, came by as soon as he had an open time frame. Friendly guy. Talkative. And interested in how our family was doing.

“How is everyone? How’re the kids?” he asked Rudy, while shoving a camera into the main pipeline.

“Kids are good, thanks. Every day is a new start, to begin again. You return home at the end of the day hopefully with everything intact…,” he commented. Then added, “…everyone’s fine, thanks for asking.”

John’s son Joe was the usual plumber that came by. A young man, working alongside his dad, learning how to work and run the family business. He always showed up with a smile, a readiness, polite conversation, and the determination to leave our home in better shape than before he showed up.

“How’s Joe?” Rudy asked.

“He’s fine, thanks.”

“Is he still working the business with you?” he wondered. “I haven’t seen him around town lately.”

John lowered his head. He didn’t say anything. Rudy wasn’t sure but he thought he saw John wipe away a tear. He pondered if he should say anything, or just wait.

“No,” John started. “About a year and a half ago, Joe went with some friends to a bar and somehow ended up in a fight. He was repeatedly kicked in the head, leaving him, to this day, with brain damage. He’s unable to work, or do most things on his own.”

Rudy was speechless. An image of Joe’s blue eyes and friendly face zoomed across his mind. He lowered his head, feeling John’s pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed to say.

His heart hurt, felt heavy when he realized how his previous statement is so true, that every day is a new start… with the hope of returning home at the end of the day.

Attitude is EVERYTHING

Be positive. Find Avant-Garde people, those that possess innovative ideas that make the world an  interesting place. Let a Dilettante hold your attention as they dabble in the arts and fill you with knowledge that will enhance your good vibes towards humanity. Be Ubiquitous, while living a well-rounded life; live as if you are everywhere at once. Sneak in a Tryst with someone you love. Agree to meet, to enjoy an Idyllic location; somewhere that is carefree, tranquil, and picturesque. Think positive. Finding Equanimity will instill a sense of calmness and an even-tempered attitude.

Don’t be negative.

Being Vague

They say you’ve made improvements. They say it’s never been better. They say you’re just what’s needed.

They tell you not to worry. They tell you they’ve got a plan. They tell you the rewards will come.

They are being vague.

They don’t say what’s truly on their minds. They beat around the bush. They leave you feeling frustrated. Full of doubt. In a state of anger. They leave your hopes unfulfilled.

The improvements you’ve made seem pointless. Being better doesn’t matter. Their planning is fruitless. You begin to worry.


what do you do when a man cries?

You listen, of course. You listen to him tell you he can’t figure out what is wrong with him. Wonders why he doesn’t seem to care. About much. All you can do is listen until there is a pause, a break from his stream of words.

Then you tell him what you think. Where the problem might lie. You tell him that it is most likely not something current that has caused him grief, to give him the feeling of giving it all up. No. You tell him you believe it may have to do with a time long ago. During his youth. That for some reason, as a small boy, he seemed to feel not-so-very-loved. That specific moments could have dirtied his mind. Ingrained themselves into his psyche.

You also tell him that maybe he’s spent his life trying to please someone who is no longer around to please. You tell the crying man he needs to find it within himself to believe, to know, that he is indeed worthy. Worthy of everything he’s accomplished. And that if he can find it in his heart, his mind, and his soul to believe how valuable he is to the world. To his wife. To his children. He will feel rewarded. Happy. And full.

That unless he discovers his value, deep down, he will always have a hole where all the good things get washed out, plugged up by the bad.

It’s psychological you tell him. That it’s absorbed in his mind.

So, you make a suggestion.

Find that person in your memory. That person you’ve been trying to please. Find his face. And tell him you are okay. That you no longer need anyone’s approval. Only your own. And then you will see. Life will brighten. Feel lighter. Less harsh. And only then will you be truly happy.

In response, the tearful man will say to you, I think you are right. I think I am holding onto something from long ago. Something that is hurting me. Hurting my life. And my relationships. Then he will breathe deep. Wipe away the tears that have fallen. And embrace you. Hold you tight. Because you are the person he trusts the most.

the mellowing of a man


Rudy has worked hard. Worked all kinds of hours. Hours throughout the day. Throughout the night. But now he finds himself at home, domesticated. Cooking. Cleaning. And caring for the kids, specifically Brad, who continues to depend on us. All the while I scamper off to work.

Rudy’s becoming more patient. Taking the time to talk. To really talk. To talk about feelings. Both good and bad. To talk a lot.

Tension is released.

For both of us.

An already deep connection deepens. Respect and friendship take on a new path. The stress of life is replaced with the joy of communicating.

He’s calming.

Embracing life in a simply simple way.

He’s engaging himself.

Enriching himself.

His being.

His psyche.

His approach.